Here are two more flashes I had hanging about… enjoy!
When Geoff goes on his golfing weekends, I leave the front door on the latch for Roger from number sixteen.
I take a long bath with scented oils and candles, shave my legs, and massage my skin with cocoa butter. The cat is shut out, carpets vacuumed and bedding changed. The sport biographies and loose change are tidied away from Geoff’s side of the bed. When everything is ready, I put the vase of plastic tulips in the front window. That’s the signal he’ll be looking out for; our secret code. I lie in bed and wait.
I remember being so anxious that Roger must lock the door. Not any more. The idea that Geoff could return early, his trip curtailed by an attack of golfer’s elbow, makes the whole thing that much more of a thrill. You have to take them where you can get them at my age.
The Thrill of the Chase
Frank lingered near to the bus stop, carefully assessing each person who waited there. It was the usual set of bored commuters. None paid Frank any attention as he skulked by a litter bin, except for the man in the blue puffer jacket who gave him a suspicious sideways glance, before turning back to his mobile phone. There was one woman with a smell of bacon sandwiches about her who carried a cloth bag, but Frank could tell there was nothing in there that would interest him.
Shivering in the chill January air, Frank wished again that he had his new red coat. In his haste to leave the house, he had paid no heed to the weather. Just then, a gritter lorry passed by, coating the icy pavement in a layer of salt. Frank barked and ran after it. He could never resist a good chase.